


The Fourth of July

by realmzenith



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alfred's glasses are annoying, Birthday, Fireworks, Fluff, M/M, Save this man, They're gayyyy, Unfortunately that's the least of Ludwig's worries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-27
Updated: 2017-10-27
Packaged: 2019-01-25 01:01:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12519372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/realmzenith/pseuds/realmzenith
Summary: It's Alfred's birthday, and he takes it as a go ahead to make a bold request. Ludwig is busy being aggravated by Alfred never pushing up his glasses, but they work it out in the end. ;)





	The Fourth of July

In the yard of Alfred Jones, the Fourth of July celebration has fallen into full swing. Fairy lights blink to life to replace the loss of the California sun as it dips below the horizon, and people sway and laugh and smile. But not Ludwig. Ludwig stands to the side with his nth beer in hand, wondering when the fireworks will begin. There are too many people and bodies and words drifting through this one yard for his liking, so he will wait in his bubble and try to remember why he considered this an intelligent idea.

He hadn’t ever, of course, but when Alfred materializes beside him, he forgets everything he’d been attempting to recall.

“Having fun?” Alfred hasn’t had too much to drink. His cheeks aren’t flushed quite yet, but he still seems characteristically high on life.

“That would depend on your definition of fun.”

Alfred hums and takes his sweet time to respond, his gaze set on the smiling party goers, congregated around the pool. It seems as if they may throw someone in, but before Ludwig can decide on who the victim will be, Alfred’s speaking once again, his attention turned back to Ludwig.

“Hey, hey, Ludwig. Kiss me.”

Ludwig stops. Stares. “What-? _I'm sorry?”_

He’s impressed by his own ability to form English words after hearing a suggestion like that, but it means little to Alfred, seeing as the man is still grinning like he hasn’t got a care in the world much to Ludwig's chagrin. He supposes that it is terribly rare for Alfred to not be grinning in some fashion or another, but it doesn’t mean he understands it. At least, he doesn't understand it beyond the fact that it’s terribly, unfairly attractive.

“You know, kiss me. Like get closer and-” Alfred’s waving his hands the way he does when he doesn’t know how to continue. It’s funny. Well, it isn’t but it’s strange how the world around them is still moving a million times faster than Alfred’s waving hands. Ludwig’s never been the biggest fan of gatherings of excited people due to this very reason, but as always Alfred has created a solution. He just isn’t sure if the other man really means to make it feel like everything is a spinning blur of lights and warmth with only them remaining stationary in the middle. He blames it on the alcohol induced intoxication and tries not to put a name to the drawing warmth of Alfred and his insufferably resilient smile.

“Why would you want me to kiss you-?” Ludwig starts again, the words spilling out in a tumbled mess. He knows it’s not normal for it to seem like one man is a stadium light and you’re the moth that can’t look away. Ludwig thinks Alfred’s flushing, but the lights and night are as patched as quilts on their faces. Alfred shakes his head, and his glasses slip briefly down. Ludwig doesn't push them back up even if he wishes he could.

“Jesus, Ludwig. You still want to make me think even when it's just a kiss. It's my birthday. Maybe I just want a kiss from a handsome guy I like a little too much. ‘nuff of an answer for you?”

Ludwig knows he's gaping like a fish out of water. His mouth just won't form the words to respond, so when Alfred grabs his hand without waiting for his response, he doesn't know if it's a blessing or a curse. Faces and food and laughter blur by as he's guided towards the edge of the house, and he doesn't object when Alfred starts pulling him up the glass stairs behind the little gate. The party scene begins to fall away, leaving the lap-lap of the ocean and the twinkle of the city as all that remains. It's quieter, and before Ludwig can really begin to appreciate the calm, they're climbing onto the roof.

Alfred tugs him to the edge, and when they finally stop, Ludwig is speechless.

The beach spreads out beneath them as the rapidly darkening waves continue to beat a steady rhythm against the sand. The ocean is an endless expanse, dropping off like a cliff where it touches the horizon, and the last hazy light has finally fizzled out. The stars are beginning to touch their sparkling fingers to the end of the sky, and the moon is half full and bright above. Even though the city lights block out some of the dimmer stars, it’s still a beautiful sight because the city itself is a patchwork of twinkling warmth. Ludwig breathes, and it feels as if he’s tasting the sea.

It’s only when Alfred squeezes his hand that he remembers he hasn’t let go. Alfred’s still there, beaming brighter than all the stars themselves squeezed together. When their eyes meet, Ludwig attempts to look away, but something won’t let him, and it’s no fault of Alfred’s. He swallows and tries to ignore the breeze running through Alfred’s hair and the stars glimmering in his too-low glasses. Isn’t this the part where the two characters kiss, and the world falls into insignificance? Should he reach forward and cup Alfred’s face and kiss him like he’s asked? But Ludwig knows that’s just in stories, so he drops Alfred’s hand, clears his throat and moves to face the beach instead. He focuses on trying to ignore the rising color in the tips of his ears and the back of his neck over the star dipped eyes of Alfred Finnegan Jones.

But Alfred is laughing, and that’s much, much harder to ignore.

“Am I really that bad?” Alfred leans against the glass barrier, one hand stuck in his pocket and the other pushing through his wind blown hair. His glasses are still falling down his nose, and Ludwig’s not sure if he’d rather kiss him or push his goddamn glasses back up on his face. He muses that kissing might fix both….

“You look like I’m going to dump mud on your face, Lud.”

“You’re not bad.”

“If you say so, ‘cause I mean, if this is because of the whole kiss thing, I wasn’t kidding, but it’s totally chill if you don’t want to. It’s a chill thing, man. Don’t let it weigh on you because I’m ninety-five percent sure that’s what you’re thinking about.”

“No, Alfred-” Ludwig doesn’t know what he’s saying, but he knows it’s not that he doesn’t want to kiss him. He steps forward and pulls off Alfred’s glasses impulsively. At least this way, they won’t be falling down his face, and at least, this way that’s one of his many problems resolved.

“Hey, I can’t see without those,” Alfred laughs again, but he makes no move to retrieve his glasses. It’s not fair how sweet his laughter is, “Really, it’s not a big deal if you don’t want to. Sorry, I know that was kind of forward. Just- We can pretend that never happened-”

“Shut up,” Ludwig hates how his voice sounds as blocky as he feels compared to the sunshine and laughter of his friend, “Shut up. It’s not that I don’t want to kiss you. In fact, if you keep talking, I may have to kiss you just to get you to be silent.”

He doesn’t know where this frankness is coming from, but the look of _good_ surprise on Alfred’s face is intoxicating. He pulls his shoulders back, holds up his chin and exhales, “Alfred, I’ll kiss you.”

“Okay, Ludwig. Kiss me.”

Ludwig closes the remaining distance, his hand moving to Alfred’s jaw, and the other to his shoulder. Two breaths, and then he kisses him. Alfred tastes like barbecue and smells like the sea. Ludwig thinks he must be insane, but in that moment, the first firework bursts golden across the sky, and Alfred throws his arms around his shoulders. Ludwig doesn’t know which action was more explosive, but he can’t really find the will to care with Alfred finally kissing back. Time is lost in the seconds they spend connected, and when he pulls back, the sky behind them is alive with color and the night, ringing with sound.

Alfred’s eyes flash red and blue and green and purple as the fireworks blink back from his eyes. He’s turning to look, so Ludwig starts stepping back, but Alfred just tugs him closer. When he turns to face Ludwig again, his voice is barely a whisper, but Ludwig’s never heard any message more clearly.

“Fuck the fireworks, Lud. Kiss me again.”

He does, and Alfred is brighter than any firework he’s ever seen.


End file.
